First Day at USMA
by Thalia Castellan
Summary: Nico's first day of collage doesn't go quite the way he planned. Granted, he didn't really have a plan in the first place...... Written for WindowChild and ShadowPalace's One-Shot Challenge: Week 3.


**Disclaimer: I do not own Percy Jackson and friends, and the likely hood that I will someday isn't in my favor. Nor do I own West Point.**

**Grammar: I know, it's horrible. But I figured I might as well give it a shot. Besides, I had to post it now, and I hadn't gotten a Beta reader yet.**

**Reality: Okay, so you should know, I've never been to school. I've been home schooled my entire life. So if something I've said is incorrect, let me know, I'm always interested to get people's opinions about school.**

**Contest: This was written for WindowChild and ShadowPalace's one-shot contest. They have great writing prompts, you should check it out.**

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USMA

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_Beep, beep, beep, beeeep!_

I reached over, and slammed my palm down on the source of the annoying sound: my alarm clock. Why I had let Annabeth convince me to actually set it I didn't know. I did however know that I didn't need to be up for another hour. Why take the train when I could shadow travel?

I brought my arm back to my side, prepared to go straight back to sleep. I had--unfortunately--forgotten about one small detail. A loud, annoying, and very persistent detail.

"Nico di Angelo, get your lazy butt out of bed before I slash you to bits with your strange ice sword!" Through half opened eyes, I saw a red head standing over me with my own sword. Why had I left that in the kitchen again?

Okay, so I should back up and explain why there was a girl in my bedroom. It was Percy's idea, I swear. The red head in question was Rachel Dare, who Percy had elected to wake me up on my first day of collage. Percy said she'd act like an alarm clock. Only, if I didn't get up, I'd become a Nico flavored pancake.

I was just glad she'd slept on the couch in the loft. If she'd been in my room originally, she wouldn't have had to pick the lock on my bedroom door.

Right, so thats why the Oracle was standing over me holding my Stygian iron sword. Only demigod children of Hades can use Stygian iron weapons, but I wasn't sure about mortals. Especially mortals blessed by Apollo.

"I'm coming," I whined, not moving.

"Blinking doesn't count as moving."

I buried my head further into my pillow. This was like having an older sister all over again. Only this time, there were no feeling of brotherly love directed at my 'sister'.

"Go away, Dare." I muttered.

"Not happening," Tell me something I don't know.

"I'll be up in five minutes," I said grudgingly.

"You'd better be." I had the feeling Rachel was brandishing my sword in the air, even though she knew I wasn't looking at her. She had a strange liking of weapons.

I waited until the door banged shut and I was sure Rachel wasn't still in my room to sit up. I glanced at my alarm clock: four thirty. I groaned. As I son of Hades, I'm not early bird. Waking up this early is torture.

With a yawn, I clambered out of bed and tossed on pajama bottoms over my boxers. As crazy as New York may be, I have enough personal dignity not to go outside in only my underwear.

Crossing the room, I brushed the black drapes away from the sliding door that led out to my very own balcony. I fumbled with the lock for a moment before wrenching the door open and crossing the threshold.

The cold air hit me like a train moving a trillion miles an hour. Or like Grover when the wood nymphs making enchiladas. Either way, it was damn _cold_!

Spread out below me was Manhattan; the city that never sleeps. Or so they say. Not even the city that never sleeps was fully awake right now. Sure, there was still the distant sound of sirens and a few homeless people shuffled along the sidewalk; but for the most part, it was peaceful.

"Dude, five minutes came and went two minutes ago!" The peaceful almost silence was broken by a displeased looking Rachel. Who appeared to be wearing my clothes.

"Why are you wearing my clothes?" I asked, buying myself time.

"Cause I didn't bring any of my own. Gods know you have enough to lend the greater New York clothes for a day, let alone just me."

I frowned and crossed my arms. "I don't own _that _much clothing!"

"Are you kidding? I had to dump like, eighty suits off your couch just so I could sleep!" I rolled my eyes: girls.

Rachel, seeing I wasn't making a move to exit the balcony, grabbed my wrist and yanked me--very forcefully--back into my room. She had slammed shut and locked the sliding doors before I could try and make a run for it. She then marched me purposefully across the room and out into the hall; straight for the kitchen.

Pushing me into a chair and shoving me a bowl of oatmeal seemed to be Rachel's idea of making me eat breakfast. I assumed she would then leave and I could get out of collage for a few days. I was wrong.

Rachel plopped herself down in the chair across from me and started at me fixedly. It was creepy. I live alone, having someone watch me eat is weird. Having someone stare at me while I'm eating like _I'm _something to eat is even stranger. It's disconcerting.

"You still haven't told me how _you _of all people got into West Point." Rachel said, leaning forward on her elbows and raising her eyebrows pointedly.

"And you still haven't told me how you conned your dad into letting you go too an art collage," I pointed out.

Rachel shrugged, "All I'll say kid, is that it pays to have a demigod for a best friend. It took him fifteen tries, but Percy was able to manipulate enough Mist that my dad forgot all about that weird all girls school in the Swiss Alps."

"_Percy_ can manipulate the Mist?" I asked in surprise. I knew Thalia could, but _Percy_? He still hasn't figured out how to use cable.

"Yes Percy," Rachel said, rolling her eyes. "For an idiot, he isn't all that stupid."

There was silence for a moment before we both burst into laughter. "Okay, maybe he isn't the smartest kid around, but he isn't the dumbest either."

I roll my eyes, "Sure Dare, whatever you say." Personally, I say that out of all us 'children of the Big Three', Percy's the stupidest.

"So, I'll ask again; how'd you get into West Point?" Rachel looked at me expectedly. She obesely didn't believe I'd gotten in on my own.

"My dad pulled a few strings. He basically runs the place."

"_Right_," Rachel rolled her eyes. "There are no 'strings' the military is serious. You can't just waltz in and declare yourself enrolled."

"You can if you know the right people," I said, raising one of my eyebrows and daring her to contradict me.

"And you expect me to believe that you, Nico di Angelo, the _king _of anti-solshasisem, _knows _some _people_? Let alone the _right _ones?"

I shrugged. "Well, it's either that or I got in with no help at all."

"Good point," Rachel said, tilting her head to her left, "go on."

"Think about it," I started. "There's the air force, the navy, and the land army. Three very important devisions. I'll let you figure out the rest."

"So Hades really was able to 'pull some strings' huh?"

"Yep."

We sat in silence while I finished my oatmeal. Rachel was sketching something that I'm sure she meant to be soul searching and life changing and insightful; but, looking at it upside down, it appeared to be a giant, very lopsided potato.

"So, do you get any special benefits?" Rachel asked, breaking the long silence.

"I guess so. I mean, I get a dorm room with it's own bathroom, and I didn't have to sleep their last night. Plus, my three roommates are demigods. I can shadow travel right into my room with out breaking any rules! Cool huh?"

"Yeah, awesome."

No offense to Rachel or anything, but this is really awkward. She's great and everything, but not only is this something I'm pretty sure Percy paid her too do, but we also don't really hang out together that often.

We mingle with the same sort of people--we're both filthy stinking rich--but I like motorcycles and french fries with relish. She likes art and those strange little onion things that people have on Thanksgiving. Besides, she _is _four years older then me. I'm just starting collage, and this is her last year. She would have finished last year, but she went to India or something to feed the hungry.

"You're going to be late," Rachel stood and handed me my gray fedora and matching trench coat. Then, she handed me a small package, wrapped and everything.

"What's this?" I asked, puzzled.

"Percy got me a paint brush on my first day of collage, and Annabeth got him a luck barnacle, or something that resembled a barnacle anyway. So, I thought I'd get you a present. A good luck gift, ya know?"

"Thanks," I said, slipping the box into my coat pocket. "Do you mind if I don't open it now? I _am _headed off to West Point, I bet in five hours I'll need some luck."

Rachel laughed and rolled her eyes, "Yeah, sure. Whatever Nico. Try not too die, okay?"

"Got it," I said with a wink, "I'll try not to explode myself."

We both laughed and I decided it was time too make my dramatic exit. I saluted Rachel, spun on my heel--for added effect--and slipped into the shadow of my fridge.

(--) (--) (--)

The room I landed in was furnished simply: four made-up beds, a desk, two large cabinets that I assumed were for our clothes, four small shelves--one over each bed--and an open door that led to a small bathroom.

Home sweet home. Or at least, that's what I'm going to pretend it is for the next four years of my life.

Too be honest, I never wanted this. I wanted to skip collage and work at camp. Train demigods and stuff. One day, maybe I'd get married, maybe not. Now, I'm stuck in this military school for the next four years of my life. And after that, I have to join the army. For all I know, I'll be dead before I turn thirty.

Sometimes I wonder if my dad is _trying _to get me killed. He sure is doing a good job of putting me in the right places to be vanquished. The army isn't exactly the _safest _future I could secure for myself.

I sighed and took a closer look at my dorm room. My bags were lying at the foot of my bed, untouched as of yet. Otherwise, nothing stood out to me. The other guys must have already put their stuff away, cause there were no other bags.

I sighed again. It looked like I doomed for a life in the military, regardless to whether I wanted it or not.

"So, Mr. Di Angelo, what do you get when you round 3.3305768435667 to the nearest millionth, subtract two tenths of _pie_, multiply it by _M_ squared, and divide it by X increased by K squared over two?"

I stared at the waiting teacher in disbelieve. Did she really think I'd know how too do _that_? I just got here! Literally, I got lost and ended up five minutes late. That problem was suppose to be my punishment. If this is the easy math, I _really _don't want to know what the hard math is.

"I have absolutely no idea," I said; deciding to be honest.

"Then I suggest you are not late again. In battle, timing is one of the most important tactics you can use."

Great, I mentally slapped myself. Not only can I not solve a freaking math problem, I'm suppose to be thinking about fighting already. And this is only the first day!

By the time P.E. rolled around, I was even more crushed then I had been in math. Chemistry was a complete fail, let's just say that if geometry is my calling, it's not happening, and now, I'm going to make a total fool of myself. I can sense it. Really.

I left the changing room, my school clothes changed for a white shirt and blue shorts. Who's bright idea was it too have us wear shorts anyway?

"All right boys, we'll start off easy......." I didn't hear anything after that. My attention span is short, what can I say? The coach dude blew his whistle and I followed the group.

The course was simple: twenty sit-ups, ten pushups, eighty jumping jacks. Then repeat. Run around the gym five times, scale the rock wall, climb the like, twenty foot long rope, and repeat the whole process over again.

Some of the stuff was easy, the climbing wall, the running. But the second time around, well, let's just say I wasn't doing too well.

"Hey, what's wrong with you?" Asked a huge African guy doing jumping jacks next to me. "Didn't you take the physical."

"Sure," I grumbled. I hadn't really, but there was no reason to tell this random dude that.

"You sure? Cause you aren't holding up to well."

"I'm fine," I snapped.

The other guy shrugged, "If you say so. You do realize this is nothing compared to what you have to do after you leave the academy, right? The military is no joke kid."

"I don't think so. I've fought in battles before, and believe me, it wasn't this hard."

The guy looked at me like I was insane. "Yeah, right. If you say so." He didn't speak to me again; something I was rather happy about.

The rest of P.E. sucked. I fell eight times, got hit with a football twice, and had three guy tell me I was a nut job. So much for the great first day of collage I was hoping for. What ever happened to the first day being easy?

Lunch was uneventful. I sat by myself. Ate a tunafish sandwich and bag of potato chips without any interference. That was about the only thing that went well. But still, it was kind of lonely. Sure, I was use to sitting alone at camp, but the campers were always waving and smiling. Here, it was different. I was being excluded. Although, believe me, exclusion is not a feeling unknown to me.

Art and literature were boring. I understood almost nothing the teacher was saying, and couldn't be bothered to listen properly. Too bad Rachel wasn't there instead of me, she'd love this stuff.

History was the final class of the day. I plopped down in my desk and waited to have another boring lesson that I stunk at. And then, the teacher uttered seven words that made my day:

"Today we will be studying Greek mythology."

Needless to say, I understood the class perfectly. Every time the teacher said something, I acutely knew what he was talking about. After the day I'd had, the small triumph meant allot.

Dinner was uneventful and lonely as lunch. Or at least, it was until a curly brown haired girl sat down across from me.

"Hi," The girl leaned across the table to shake hands with me, smiling a little. "I'm Miranda Ambrose. We have history, math, and art together."

I sure didn't remember her, but whatever. I'm not about to deny that I know her. "Oh, right. Nice to see you again, Miranda. I'm Nico."

"So, you're a history geek." Something about her tone suggested she was joking. I hoped she was anyway, cause at this point, I wouldn't mind summoning half a dozen skeletons to eat anyone who bothers me.

"Not really, just a fan of Greek mythology," Yeah, that's it. Greek mythology is my hobby, it's not like I'm a freaking demigod or anything.

Miranda shrugged, "Whatever, you still knew a ton of stuff I didn't. Here's my proposition," she leaned forward on her elbows, a mischievous look on her face. "You touter me in Greek mythology, and I'll help you struggle through math. Which, by the way, you stink at."

I considered the offer for a moment. It seemed like a good deal. I'd learn _something _about math, and I'd have a friend. What could go wrong? Other then me spilling my guts about being a demigod of course.

"Sure, I'm in."

"Kay. Meet me here after classes tomorrow, we've got allot of work to do." We shook on it.

(--) (--) (--)

My three roommates were sound asleep. The sound of three guys snoring filled the room.

They were pretty cool. A son of Hephaestus, a son of Apollo, and a son of Ares. We got along okay. But at the moment, that was the least of my problems. My current problem was that I couldn't sleep.

I'd been lying in bed for over three hours. No matter how much I tossed and turned, I couldn't get to sleep. And I really needed to rest, it wasn't as if the classes were going to be any easier if I was sleep deprived.

I was just about too get up and shadow travel back to my place when I remembered the gift Rachel had given me. I hadn't open it yet, maybe whatever it was would help me sleep.

I slipped out of bed and padded over to one of the dressers. Throwing open a door, I quickly retrieved my coat. Reaching into my pocket, I found the small package just the way I'd left it hours before.

I closed the door and jumped back into bed, pulling the covers up so I wouldn't freeze to death.

The wrapping paper was dark blue, almost black. I tore the paper off hastily, reveling white box, and a card.

I was sure Rachel had made the card herself. A sword was stabbing a tree on the front, a strange looking blob with feet was standing in the background. I made a mental note to myself to tell Rachel she needed to work on her people the next time I saw her.

Opening the card, I struggled with the the letters, they looked like they'd been purposefully looped together to make it harder for me to read. In the end, I decoded the note. It read like this:

_Nico,_

_Having a good time at collage yet? I didn't think so. School was never your thing. _

_ Anyway, about your gift; I thought about getting you something stupid, but that didn't seem like you, so I had one of the guys at camp make this for you instead. Hope you need it!_

_Rachel._

I'll admit, Rachel sure knew how to write intriguing letters.

I opened the box, expecting to find a camp necklace or something. Instead, I gleaming dagger sat on a cushion of torn up tissues.

I chuckled. Go figure. Percy gives Rachel a paintbrush, Annabeth gives Percy a barnacle, and Rachel gives me a lethal weapon. She should be the one in military school, not me. Her love of weapons is scary.

I slipped the dagger under my pillow for safe keeping, even if she was crazy, Rachel had a point, I was a demigod. I had to be prepared at all times.


End file.
